blem is not the mountain torrent, but the still and sleeping lake.

But it should be remembered that apathy is one thing, and self control another. To fly from temptation, as it has been often remarked, is not always a virtue, but weakness and cowardice. He only has obtained conquest over himself, who can remain unmoved by the solicitations of the passions and desires; who can look on seduction and despise it, who can mingle in the strifes and storms of the world, yet preserve unruffled serenity of spirit. Such a conquest is not to be achieved in the cell of the solitary.

Intercourse with our fellow beings furnishes the best possible discipline of the temper and affections, for it makes it necessary for us to restrain a wayward fancy, to keep the passions in check, and pay deference to the wishes, feelings, weaknesses and prejudices of those about us. In solitude we may yield to our caprices, for no one is made unhappy by them; and hence we become the slaves of a thousand little foolish habits and indulgences. But on mixing with the world, and forming connexions in society, we find that there are others whose comfort is to be regarded as well as our own. All society is a compromise. We must surrender something in order to receive back happiness in return. The art of society consists in multiplying agreeable sensations, and especially in abstaining from whatever would annoy or offend. In order to this, it becomes necessary to watch over the manifestations of the temper, to be thoughtful and guarded in our expressions, to avoid explosions of anger, to shun rudeness and severity

and submit to the forms and usages, which are estab lished for mutual protection and convenience.

Thus society becomes a school of discipline. Again, it is a school of benevolence. A state of abstraction from the world is unfavorable to the growth and expansion of the kind affections. It may produce in minds of a certain class a sort of sickly sensibility that is moved by high wrought description, and weeps over tales of classical sorrow; it may make us visionary and romantic, giving to the imagination a preponderance over the judgment, but all this is consistent with no slight amount of actual selfishness. There are those, too, who are rendered morose and misanthropic by seclusion. Unaccustomed to meet the smiles of affection, and exchange the courtesies of life, they acquire in time a sort of savageness of temper. They grow suspicious of their fellow beings, and all their thoughts take a dark and sullen hue.

Solitude, it is true, sometimes makes amiable enthusiasts, but it is usually of such as have a large proportion of the elements of goodness in their nature. In other cases it contracts and chills the affections, and nourishes all the evil passions of the heart.

Society tends to enlarge and strengthen the kind affections by perpetually furnishing occasions for their exercise. Its very structure supposes their existence. It is founded on benevolence, and without it the fabric must be dissolved. Our imperfections and weaknesses make us necessary to each other. We can not advance a step without being corvinced that we have a concern in something beyond ourselves. Our sorrows and dependence check our conceit and pride, and the

constant demand which is made on our sympathy serves to give it warmth and expansion.

Our affections are called forth in infancy and childhood toward those by whose kindness we are protected from a thousand seen and unseen dangers, and thus social education is commenced. In more mature life, the pleasure of being beloved, and the advantages which flow from reciprocal esteem and affection, have the effect of softening and humanizing the temper and manners. We must submit to restraints and sacrifices, must surrender our wishes and feelings to those of others, and the habit of doing this, from necessity perhaps at first, tends gradually to cure our selfishness, and produce the meek, benevolent, and self denying spirit of the gospel.

Seclusion, we have said, often renders men distrustful. We enter the world and converse freely with our fellow beings, and our suspicions vanish, and our confidence is restored.

We know it is often asserted that a profound acquaintance with human nature has the effect of lowering our opinion of its worth, for under the mask of goodness we detect, in most cases, corruption and selfishness.

It is true we may find nothing in the living world corresponding to the images of ideal perfection which float before the mind. But we find much that is good and excellent; much that is capable of inspiring esteem and affection; much purity and elevation of feeling, moral worth, sincerity, gentleness, and compassion. He must be very unfortunately constituted, who can mingle with his fellow men, and discern noth

ing in them to admire and love. After all, there is more of good than evil, more kindness than hate, more candor than severity, in the world. Even men's bad qualities, which offend us, are generally to be attributed to something else than settled malignity of heart — to ignorance, perhaps; to mistaken views, to a defective education, or the influence of seductive models. A knowledge of human nature will thus inspire a disposition to judge with indulgence rather than with rigor. We find that much of what appears, at first view, to wear a forbidding aspect, loses its repulsive features as it becomes better known. How often do our prejudices against an individual yield upon intimate acquaintance! How often do respect and attachment spring up and grow with time, where first impressions are unfavorable! Kind feelings and complacency are often the fruits of intercourse. An ascetic disposition, roughness, and austerity, are vices not of society but of solitude.

We often hear of the seductions of the world, and it is true it has seductions. The influence it exerts is sometimes a corrupting influence. But let us be just to its character. Let us not be insensible to the benefits it confers. God has placed us in society on earth as a means of educating us for the community of happy spirits above. Let us endeavor to profit by its discipline. Let us take warning from the melancholy instances of the wreck of virtue and happiness it exhibits. Let its noble examples of excellence stimulate and encourage our efforts. Let us pass through it without confounding ourselves with it,' living in it as not of it, extracting the good it is capable of yielding, having our faces heavenward,

FOUR DAYS' MEETINGS.' A LETTER.

Messrs Editors: Something was said in your last number of those four days meetings,' which have been or are to be held in nearly all our towns. I have been in the midst of these meetings, and learned some facts respecting them which you may be glad to have, or rather may think, as I do, that they ought to be known. It seems to be the opinion of many among us, that the least said about such things is best. It may be so; of some things I am persuaded it is. But where an extensive system of operation is introduced all at once into the religious community, and is exerting for the present at least an immense influence upon the social and civil state of society, it is plainly a duty to obtain and impart all the information we can, as to the true character and probable effect of these measures in the end. This information can be derived only through facts, facts relating of course to particular places and individuals. I have no wish to indulge in personalities, and will avoid it as much as possible. But I view this system, of which I speak, as a matter of grave moment, requiring, whether right or wrong, beneficial or pernicious, serious and full consideration; more so than can be given now, for I mean to be brief and offer facts rather than reflections.

Three things seem to me clear respecting these meetings. First, that many have adopted them much against their own judgment and will. Second, that all find it difficult to justify their use. Third, that some of their most obvious effects are altogether bad.